


Flesh for Fantasy

by echoes_of_another_life



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:08:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_another_life/pseuds/echoes_of_another_life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wondered where James Marsters got the inspiration for Punk Spike? Or was Spike telling the truth when he said Billy stole his image?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flesh for Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [entrenous88 (EntreNous)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/gifts).



James had been furious when he first saw the script, the Hawaiian shirt was humiliating enough but this …

He’d shook his head, paced the length and breadth of his trailer, considered hitting a few more walls and had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming in frustration. 

What was it with Joss and humiliation? He’d spend forever building up a character, giving him the cred, making him beyond cool and then he tears it all down by making him the comic relief. Okay, so he could deal with the whole budding poet thing, but the flowing locks, the curls and spectacles, fuck if that wasn’t a long way to fall from fists and fangs and black leather dusters.

It had taken James a whole twenty four hours to change his mind, twenty four hours and a full script later and James had put Joss well and truly back on his pedestal, back to thinking that the guy was an absolute genius. And all it had needed was just one read through of the entire episode’s script to realise that what Joss was really doing was taking the cardboard villain and turning him into a fleshed out person. And James would be lying if he didn’t admit to feeling a tinge of pride at learning that Spike wasn’t always the ‘cool guy’ but he’d made that of himself.

Yeah, Joss was a genius alright and James had gone from frustration to excitement, from hating the idea to thinking it was going to be the making of Spike’s character. This was his chance, the hook he’d been waiting for to encourage the viewer to care about his character, know William and through him Spike. James knew opportunities like that didn’t come along every day, to reach through the screen and create a relationship with the unseen audience. 

James loved nothing more than portraying character progression, for him complexity and progression was what it was all about. Taking the disposable villain and making him Love’s Bitch, then taking him one step further and introducing the audience to the Fool for Love.

James grinned, he was so looking forward to this. Looking forward to finding out more about William, where he came from, how he became a vampire. An upper-class misfit on the fringes of society, unaccepted by his peers and desperate to prove himself. James didn’t see much of a difference between Spike and William. Except for Spike’s lower-class accent and much better dress sense and of course the violence. 

The way James saw it Spike must have really hated William. Hated or had been ashamed, maybe a little of both. Especially the fact that he wasn’t accepted. Hated William’s sensitivity and done everything in his power to be different, to be more acceptable, which probably explained the emergence of the Big Bad as a way of proving himself.

And what better way to prove himself then to slay the Slayers. William may have been a bad poet but Spike made sure he succeeded as a killer. 

It was the subway scene that had really grabbed James’ attention, sure there was the violence, this was the Spike he’d known and loved for almost four seasons. The Spike well on the road to being the Big Bad with the death of his second Slayer but it wasn’t the fight scene that caused James to sit up and take notice. 

It was what came after. 

James had read the scene several times, read the script notes that described Spike as the Sid Vicious of the vampire world and laughed. James never really saw Spike as Sid Vicious, Johnny Rotten maybe, Sid was too stoned to even talk half the time never mind think for himself, either that or punch drunk from allowing one too many bottles to be thrown at his head. But he had looked good, so maybe he was a little like Sid. But looks aside James always saw Spike as John Lydon … until now.

Until James had read how Spike gained the leather duster, the duster that went on to signify the very essence of coolness, and then there was the Spikey blonde hair, hair that was definitely more punk back then. And if there was one person that fit that description better than anyone James knew it certainly wasn’t Sid Vicious, maybe John Lydon but James thought that maybe, just maybe there was one person that description could have been written for. 

The guy who was once known for his very own leather duster, who before he became famous for his music was famous for the very same traits that made up Spike’s character.

James smiled to himself, recalled reading once that Billy was known as the guy in the long leather coat who used to hang around the Sex Pistols concerts well before he earned a reputation for being a member of the Bromley Contingent. The guy famous for the Spikey blonde hair, gorgeous blue eyes and devilish sneer. Billy had done for rock music what Spike had done for William’s reputation, given it a good kick up the ass. He had that same in-your-face-aggressiveness that James loved about Spike, and despite his punk rock pedigree Billy was rarely given the respect he deserved, just like William, like Spike.

And the guy whose reputation was just too big to be submerged in a supporting role, yeah James knew exactly who subway Spike was, who he wanted him to him to be. 

He just needed to find a way to ensure he got those characteristics across on screen, he’d found the object he wanted to concentrate on and that object was the man himself … Billy Idol. 

That decided all he needed now was to get close to him.

It had taken James forever to reach Billy on the phone, either he was in the studio, or not available or he got his agent. It had taken him even longer to explain what it was he wanted from him and why. He’d carefully explained that what an actor does on stage or film isn’t so much feeling a characteristic as expressing a characteristic. That it was more expressing, creating with your physical sense an image for the audience and that the image he wanted to express was Billy’s.

He’d talked for hours, called back, left messages and all it had taken to grab Billy’s attention was a return phone call and a message saying James was in the studio recording.

And that was that. Suddenly they were talking back and forth every day for a week until James mentioned Billy’s live version of the ‘Rebel Yell’ acoustic in ‘93 and now here he was in a bar listening to Billy talk about music.

“That was a great night, you should have been there Jimmy. Most people hadn’t heard my music done with all the crap stripped away. Not that my music is crap,” Billy laughed.

James had agreed and not just because he wanted Billy to help him but because this was Billy Idol and nobody with any taste in music would call what Billy did crap. James had seen Billy climb to the top of the mountain and stay there. Nobody would call Billy crap, least of all him.

“Truth is most of the songs began with an acoustic guitar. Take Sweet Sixteen, now there’s a song that doesn’t need a band, it can be played all on its own. A lot of songs are like that but I just happen to like playing them with a rock band. But strip them down and you release their energy and meaning. The fire of the song is still there, the fire you breathed into the song is still there, you can play them without the rock, shit play them on a tin can if you wanted and that same lust for life is still there. It’s very easy to translate music Jimmy and that’s what you hear with Rebel Yell.”

James wasn’t sure he responded, wasn’t sure he said anything really. He was too busy watching Billy talk, seeing the truth of his words in his face, the enthusiasm, the lust for life that Billy had just attributed to his music but to James it seemed a more all round Billy Idol quality.

“Strip away all the crap Jimmy and you’re left with a gem.”

James looked at Billy, saw his smile widen to a grin and thought he knew exactly what Billy meant. 

“So, first thing we’re going to have to work on is the hair,” Billy said eyeing James.

“Huh?”

“The hair man, it’s too dark. It needs to be lighter, shorter.”

“Lighter?” James grimaced, not all that happy with the thought of more bleaching.

“Yeah, lighter. Shorter, jagged and more slashed. Jelled-out peroxide blonde spikes. You wanna do this or not,” Billy grinned.

James wanted to, and the more Billy smiled the more James wanted.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go.” Billy drained his bottle of beer, scraped back the chair he was sitting in and winked at James as he grabbed his jacket and marched towards the exit.

James shook his head, it was a rare thing for him to be lost for words but the torn jeans, the spikey platinum hair and the curled lip that merged into a grin without any hesitation had him stumped. He watched Billy shoulder the door open, his youthful enthusiasm coupled with a mixture if swagger and sex appeal that was both charming and infectious. 

It didn’t take James long to sum up exactly what Billy was. A horny forty something teenager who could turn on the charm any time day or night and never tired of being, well, Billy. 

“So, where are we heading?” James asked.

“My place. We’ll crack open a bottle, throw a few outfits around, do something with that hair,” Billy laughed as he threw one arm lazily around James’ shoulder.

“Relax man, it’s gonna be fun.” Billy whistled loudly and slapped James on the back as a cab pulled up alongside of them.

James wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten himself into this. The plan was to just hang out with Billy for a few days, watch, listen, maybe get a feel for how he did things, pick up a few pointers. And suddenly he was standing in Billy’s apartment with a bottle of beer in one hand and a pair of torn faded jeans in the other. 

“Well let’s see what they look like then.” Billy smiled.

“You want me to put them on?” James laughed.

“Well, I’m not planning on sketching a still life. It’s not like you ain’t got anything I don’t see every morning when I take a piss.” Billy turned his back and reached for his beer as James unbuttoned his trousers.

“So, you any good at this acting thing then?” Billy asked as he watched James pull faded denim over his naked ass.

“Yeah,” James mumbled as he caught Billy watching him.

“Though I did get kicked out of Julliard.” James smiled.

“No shit,” Billy laughed. “I got kicked out of the scouts when I was seven. Got caught snogging a girl.” He grinned.

Infectious was right, James thought. Here he was, half naked, well on his way to being drunk in some guy’s apartment and all he could think about was how he hadn’t wanted to laugh so much in such a long time.

“Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a skinny waist?” Billy eyed the way the denims hung low around James’ hips revealing taught stomach muscles and a smattering of dark hair that disappeared beneath the loose material. He walked over to where James was standing, slipped his hand beneath the loose fitting denim and pulled gently to emphasize just how loose they were. And smiled when his fingers grazed down the dip and swell of James’ lower back and buttocks.

“Nice ass though.” Billy winked.

James took a long swallow of his beer in an attempt to think of something, anything to say and was partly relieved when Billy walked over to the other side of the room. 

“So you up for it then?” Billy asked. He turned around to face James, smiled at the confused look on James’ face when he patted the chair and leered suggestively.

“It?” James swallowed.

“The hair man. We gonna do something with that or what?” Billy asked in mock innocence. 

“Sure,” James replied. 

James figured he’d be much safer sitting down anyway. Maybe it was the drink but Billy’s smile was doing things to him he hadn’t planned on, causing stirrings in places it had no right to cause stirrings. He could still feet the heat from his fingers on his lower back, hear the teasing lilt to his voice that made him grateful Billy’s denims didn’t exactly fit because right about now he could use a little growing room. 

He walked over to where Billy stood, said something witty, or at least he hoped he did, he was too busy trying to put one foot in front of the over and keep his voice neutral to concentrate on the actual words. He eased himself into the chair slowly and tried to bite back the groan when Billy leaned over his shoulder, his mouth so close to James’ ear he could feel the warmth of his breath against his skin.

“You alright there mate?” Billy asked.

James nodded, he didn’t trust himself to actually speak, not when Billy was so close, not when he was sliding his hands up the length of his neck. And definitely not when he was sliding his fingers in among the thick strands of his hair and massaging them across his scalp. 

James closed his eyes, fought the urge to slide down in the chair, let his head fall back against the weight behind him. He fought it, he was sure he did. But he could feel his neck muscles relaxing as Billy teased the cold gel in among his hair such a contrast to the warm fingers that rubbed and teased as they worked and sculpted his hair into shape. 

He certainly didn’t stretch upwards and lean in to the fingers caressing his scalp, didn’t moan, not out loud anyway.

Did he?

Billy watched the way James squirmed in the chair, he’d never actually styled a guy's hair before, other than his own that is. He wasn’t expecting it to feel as soft as it did, wasn’t expecting it to do things that he wouldn’t be in a hurry to repeat any time soon. Nor was he expecting Jimmy to make those low throaty moans every now and again either but he did, he was. 

Billy’s fingers stilled as James leaned further into the chair, his head tilting so far back that Billy could see the muscles in James’ throat contract as his moans deepened and his head brushed against Billy’s groin. He looked down, saw James’ head so close to his erection, saw James’ eyes open and stare straight into his own questioningly and couldn’t help himself.

Billy leaned over slowly, bent his head until his mouth was mere inches from James' … 

“Billy …” James breathed.

“Yeah …” Billy answered as he leaned forward and took back the inch that separated them, caught James’ lower lip between his teeth and eased his hands down James’ chest and slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of James' jeans.

“Doesn’t matter …” James whispered when he felt the button on his jeans pop and felt warm fingers surround his cock, tighten and relax as they stroked his length. He reached up behind him, grabbed a handful of Billy’s hair roughly, pulled him down deepening the kiss, lifted his hips and heard Billy groan.

Billy groaned as his cock brushed painfully against the back of the chair, he’d wanted to fuck the guy since the first moment he’d heard his voice on the phone. Wanted, fantasized, wondered if he was as hot as he’d sounded, he’d even got his agent to pull up a picture of him but not once during any of those fantasies did he imagine fucking a chair.

“Jimmy?” Billy grinned against James’ mouth hearing only a groan in response.

“One of us is going to have to move,” he groaned already dreading the loss of contact.

“What do you suggest,” James asked. He loosened his grip on Billy’s hair and lifted his hips in protest when he felt Billy withdraw the warmth of his hand.

“For starters, lose the jeans and get your arse over here. If I’m gonna fuck a chair then I at least want something pretty draped over it.” Billy straightened and reached for his own pants, pulled the first button loose and then another, eased one hand inside and released his erect cock. He stroked his length, sliding his thumb over the wet tip his eyes never wavering as he watched James ease himself out of the chair and shrug his jeans over his hips until they hit the floor with a thud.

James stepped out of his jeans and watched Billy watch him. He dropped his gaze, groaned as Billy continued to pleasure himself, watched the rise and fall of his chest as he increased the rhythm. He forced his gaze upwards, his bare feet silent on the carpet as he stepped forward, close enough to reach out and touch.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” James breathed against Billy’s parted lips.

“Maybe not yours,” Billy groaned. He moved his hand along James’ hip, plunged his tongue into his mouth hungrily, pulled James closer and felt the brush of James’ cock as it slid against his own. He groaned stepped forward forcing James to take a step back and then another until his back was flush against the chair, wound his fingers into James’ hair and dragged him closer, his mouth hard and relentless. 

James groaned, ground his hips against Billy’s wanting, needing contact as Billy’s tongue plunged into his mouth, tangled with his, Billy’s hips moving in a circular rhythm against his own until James thought he was going to come there and then.

Billy broke the kiss, bit down hard on James' bottom lip, his tongue snaking forward to sooth the sting before sliding his mouth along the column of James' throat. He scraped his teeth along James’ jaw line, up towards his ear and groaned.

“Turn around Jimmy …” Billy breathed.

James wasn’t sure whether he turned of his own accord or whether the hand on his hip turned him. Nor did he care when he felt Billy’s weight settle on his back, felt Billy’s hands work slowly down the backs of his thighs, his fingertips stroking teasingly along the crease of his ass.

“Billy …” James groaned. He pushed back against Billy’s probing fingers his own gripping tight to the chair as Billy brushed his cock against his entrance. James wanted it, welcomed it as he lifted his hips and rocked back and felt Billy wrap one arm around his waist, pull him close and surge forward.

James pushed against Billy, wanting to get closer, felt Billy’s hot breath on the back of his neck, his lips moist against his shoulder, his fingers clenched tight against his hips as he thrust forward. Each thrust bringing a welcoming heat, filling him, Billy’s body hot against his, skin becoming slick with sweat as he felt Billy ease one hand around his hip and begin stroking his aching cock.

Billy thrust his hips forward, withdrew and then plunged back until he was fully sheathed within James, listened to James moan beneath him. Saw him push back against him, move with him as Billy’s thrusts became faster, deeper, harder strokes that caused James' muscles to clench tight around him.

“Jesus Jimmy,” Billy groaned against James’ shoulder. “Christ … fuck, yeah.”

James groaned, tried to match Billy’s rhythm, he gripped the chair tighter, hoped to hell his legs wouldn’t buckle beneath him as they began to shake uncontrollably, bit his lip as his body began to ache and burn with the need to come.

“Harder Billy, faster,” James moaned as liquid heat surged through him.

Billy thrust forward aggressively, withdrew completely then slammed back into James, once, twice, his heart slamming hard against his chest, his breathing ragged, his words no more than grunts as need overcame want. As James bucked beneath him and cried out.

“Fuck …” Billy groaned, he thrust forward, his hips moving of their own volition as wave after wave of heat overtook him. 

“Fuck Jimmy …” 

Billy took a deep breath, stepped back and collapsed onto the couch afraid his legs wouldn’t take his weight much longer. He rested his head along the back of the cushions and waited until he could get his breathing under control. When he opened them again James was back in the chair. Head thrown back, eyes closed and hair a complete mess.

“You got any plans for the rest of the night?” Billy grinned.

“Remembering how to breath,” James gasped.

“I’ll take that as no then,” Billy said. He eased himself off the couch and walked toward the kitchen.

“I’ll get the beers, bedroom’s that way.” Billy winked and nodded his head in the direction of the closed door.

Billy grabbed a couple of bottles from the fridge, uncapped them, walked through the now empty living room to the bedroom where James was looking though his collection of the Clash discs.

“So what now?” James asked with a grin

“Well, I figured you could do that thing you were talking about,” Billy replied innocently.

“Thing?” James asked.

“Yeah, you know? Crawl under my skin and find all the things that make me tick,” Billy smirked as he sprawled on the bed, hands behind his head and grinned at James.


End file.
